An Unfortunate Accident
by fakecheeseandlollipops
Summary: Stiles is taken(kidnapped) by a hunter as leverage for his escape-a hunter who has got nothing to lose and will take any opportunity to avoid the predicament he's in. My first fanfiction so please be kind. I did not write it as Sterek, but if you want to read into it that way it's up to you :) Based loosely off that scene in the police station in S2E2. Gets better after CH1.
1. Chapter 1

_This is my first fanfiction so please be nice :) This is based very loosely off Season 2 Episode 2 just from memory so if there are some parts that differ I'm very sorry. Criticism is welcome. Enjoy!_

The plan was simple really. Stiles just had to go get Isaac before he fully wolfed out and watch out for the creeper assassin guy along the way- though he doubted the hunter would give him much trouble. Allison had already told him she'd shot him with one of her arrows.

Sneaking into the police station had been easy, though Derek had to help him with that. Whilst Derek flirted with the female officer, Stiles just walked past her- not even too sneakily either. He had to admit, Derek was surprisingly good at flirting. He pondered that thought as he wandered up the familiar halls of the PD and so didn't notice the uniform clad figure pass the corner. Stiles nearly collapsed into him and automatically tried to think of an excuse.

"Sorry," Stiles stacked his brain. "I was just..." and that's when Stiles' mind started to point out something was wrong with this man. His eyes flicked to the man's hands. Why was he carrying a needle? "Looking..." His eyes then travelled down the man's leg, his _injured _leg, and the blood trail that followed him down the halls. And the it clicked.

_Allison injured the hunter. The needle- probably wolfs-bane- and Isaac!_

Stiles knew he had to get back to Derek, but his priority was getting away from this dangerous individual- one who was showing by his change of face that he knew that Stiles knew he was a fake.

Stiles turned, ready to run, "Oh shi-" his outburst cut off by the man, surprisingly strong in his injured state, needle-less hand wrapping itself over Stiles' mouth, while the opposing arm wrapped under Stiles' arm and across his body, leaving one of his hands practically useless. The other Stiles was using to try to it his attacker as he pushed against his arms, feet skidding on the floor as the man dragged him down the hallway.

_ Shit, shit, shit. _Stiles knew that if he didn't alert Derek, Isaac would be in serious trouble- _deadly _trouble. He was also worried about what the hunter was planning on doing with him. He could of easily just knocked him out. Why go to the effort of bringing him along?

They turned another corner and Stiles knew they were close to their destination, but his eyes widened slightly at the soon-to-be object of his plan of escape- the fire alarm. If he could just pull it, it would alert Derek to the fact that something was wrong, and might distract his attacker long enough for Stiles to worm his way out of his grip.

As they neared the alarm, Stiles flung out the arm he was using to hit his attacker out and gripped the fire alarm, successfully flipping the switch and setting it off. However, it had a different effect on the man than Stiles had hoped, for the hunter immediately swung him into the corridor wall, hand momentarily leaving Stiles' mouth to reach for the handcuffs on his belt(the man when disguising himself as a copper had put a lot of effort into making it genuine). Stiles, on the other hand, had his head bashed a little too hard against the grimy bricks of the corridor and was too busy battling the wall of pain to even notice he first cuff secure itself across his wrist. He blinked, painfully trying to restore his blurry vision, noting how setting off the shrill fire alarm may not have been such a great idea after all. He moaned into the wall, blinking out of his daze just in time to notice his other wrist being pulled none-too-gently behind his back.

"Wait, no," he breathed and jerked his hand out of the man's grasp- at least that's what he meant to do, but in his weakened state all he could manage was a pathetic tug. The man responded by pushing his entire body weight into Stiles, crushing him against the wall with his upper torso before snapping the cuff around Stiles' second wrist.

"You little bastard."he growled into Stiles' ear before wrapping his arm around Stiles' body to pull him back into the corridor. By this point Stiles had mostly recovered the little bump to his head, so decided to try one last cry for help, deciding Derek's name was his best bet(since his super wolfy ears might pick up something) "Derek, h-". His cry was once again cut off by the hunters hand over his mouth, but his plead for help make inaudible none-the-less by the shriek of the fire drill. Once again they were back to the hunter pulling Stiles along, but this time Stiles was straining against the handcuffs which were fastened far too tight and were biting into his wrists.

The journey only lasted a couple of steps before they were at the holding cells, and the hunter flung his body to the floor. Stiles, realising he was approaching it headfirst, and unable to catch himself with his arms handcuffed behind his back, made a subconscious decision to turn slightly as he fell in order to protect himself, and landed roughly on his shoulder. Ignoring the searing pain, he shuffled into a sitting position, and wordlessly stared up at his attacker- knowing full well the panic he was feeling was apparent on his face- and tried to process his next move.

The man though had appeared to had lost all interest in the teenager he had dragged all the way to the cells and was staring at the cell that was supposed to be holding Isaac, apparently coming up to the same conclusion as Stiles- as could be seen by his immediate shift in body language to a defensive stance. Isaac had gone full wolf and broken out of his 'cage'.

And that was the moment when Isaac attacked, flinging himself out of supposedly nowhere and tackled the hunter to the ground. Stiles watched the man's body hit the floor, limp, and looked at the needle roll innocently from the man's unresponsive hands in Stiles' direction.

_Imma leave it here but I do already have the next couple of chapters in the works so don't worry! Please review!_


	2. Chapter 2

_And that was the moment when Isaac attacked, flinging himself out of supposedly nowhere and tackled the hunter to the ground. Stiles watched the man's body hit the floor, limp, and looked at the needle roll innocently from the man's unresponsive hands in Stiles' direction._

There was a brief moment of silence before Stiles looked back up at Isaac, but it wasn't Isaac that was looking back at him. His face was wild and snarling, and Stiles knew he had no control over his body at that instant. Then Isaac let out a low growl and took a threatening step towards Stiles, who immediately realised he was next. Trying his best to shuffle from the young were-wolf Stiles ended up instead hitting the wall behind him. He let out a minuscule whimper and shut his eyes in preparation for the inevitable. He knew that getting involved with the supernatural was not a good idea, and now it was going to kill him. But Stiles knew he wouldn't of done things any differently, especially with Scott as a werewolf. _Well I may have done one thing differently and not pulled that Damn fire alarm! _He waited for the attack for what seemed like years but was in fact only half a second before he heard a loud roar and opened his eyes to Derek standing in front of him whilst Isaac cowered against the opposing wall, no longer in wolf form.

"How did you do that?" Stiles asked, breath still heavy.

Derek just narrowed his eyes slightly "I'm the alpha."

"Well, the alpha could of come a bit sooner" Stiles snapped, before slowing his breathing. "Show-off." He muttered though secretly he was thankful of Derek's new abilities. Derek's eyes widened a touch when he just began to process the scene in front of him: the man lying on the floor, the slight bruise on Stiles' head, and most importantly the fact his hands were handcuffed behind his back.

"What happened?" Derek asked-though the answer was obvious- and took a cautionary step towards Stiles.

"I'm okay."Stiles said as he shifted into a more comfortable position on the floor, wincing slightly as he moved his bruised shoulder. Derek raised his eyebrow because that was a sign he was most certainly _not _okay but didn't say anything. "Besides," Stiles continued "I should be more worried about _him_." He tilted his head towards Isaac. "People should be here any minute now because of the fire alarm."

Derek seemed conflicted. He knew he had to get Isaac out of there, but he couldn't leave Stiles behind in this state. _And what if the hunter woke up before anyone got here?_ With Stiles as he was he wouldn't be able to protect himself from him.

"It's okay. Really." Stiles said a tad annoyed, but Derek had made up his mind.

He turned to a very guilty looking Isaac, who was trying his best to avoid eye-contact with the one he nearly made his lunch. "Get to the car, quickly. And lock yourself in. If you do it properly you won't be able to get out when you turn again."

Isaac looked nervous, obviously worried about attacking someone else. "But..."

"_Now._" Derek didn't quite roar but it had the same effect and Isaac fled(Stiles had this amusing image in his head of his tail between his legs). Derek's eyes lingered on the corridor, unsure of whether his choice was the right one. But he convinced himself that he should get the handcuffs off Stiles at least before he left him there. He couldn't leave him completely undefended.

His train of thought was interrupted by a sudden sense of a rise in Stiles' heartbeat, before Derek heard him cry "No! What are you doing? Get off me!" his breath suddenly cut short and Derek was already turning, ready to attack only to find he wasn't happy with the scene before him.

The hunter whom Derek had presumed was unconscious had risen from the floor, grabbing the needle as he went and hoisted Stiles from the floor, before holding the sharp stem at Stiles' neck. Derek could see Stiles concentrating on his breathing, trying to remain calm, but the tell-tale blips in his heartbeat proved how scared he really was.

"I wouldn't do anything if I were you, unless you want your friend to get hurt." The man threatened, and to strengthen his point pushed the needle more into Stiles' neck, pricking the skin. Stiles took a sharp breath and shut his eyes.

"You're a hunter." Derek countered, "This kid is human. You can't kill him." Derek felt a pang of guilt at Stiles' barely audible moan at the mention of the word 'kill'.

"Collateral damage. Besides, this kid helps you mongrels, doesn't he?" The man's voice was uncertain, as if he was trying to convince himself, but carried on, "That makes him the same as _you_."

Derek fell silent for a moment, watching the man continue to threaten his friend, as he tried to think of what would be the best route for him to go down to get Stiles out of this situation. "Wolfs-bane, really?" Derek mocked him, trying to pretend the slight anger on Stiles' face(_How dare he annoy the guy holding the needle to my neck? What is he trying to do?_) wasn't there. "He's not a werewolf, you know."

"Don't be stupid. Wolfs-bane can still hurt humans. Ever heard of aconite poisoning? It surely can't be good for him, especially if injected straight into the blood stream." The hunter said confidently, and the truth was Derek really didn't know what the effect would be on Stiles, or he would of attacked the hunter earlier. "But if _this _isn't good enough for you..." The hunter moved his arm from around Stiles' shoulders and locked it around Stiles' neck. This was obviously to stop Stiles from escaping, for he then removed the needle at Stiles' collar and held it dramatically in his outstretched arm above the floor. Derek contemplated jumping in then but was unsure- _surely _he had a trick up his sleeve. He didn't want to attack him only for the hunter to swing the needle back into Stiles.

The hunter let go of the needle without warning, using the sound of it smashing to the floor as a distraction so that he could quickly grab the gun from the holster at his belt before slamming it roughly against Stiles head who immediately cried out in surprise and tried to worm his way out of the hunters grip. However the hunter wasn't letting him go. "Better?" The man sarcastically asked in Derek's' direction and Derek despite himself gave a small nod. _I should of jumped in._

_ It's not better for me_. Stiles was in an absolute panic, and couldn't get his head straight. Running in his head was the statistics of people who survived situations like this, and what the typical criminal's next move might be. _But that didn't mean squat for this guy. He's trained to do this. He's _killed_ before. _It didn't look good for Stiles at this point.

At that moment the sound of multiple footsteps were heard, and Stiles knew that finally people were coming to check out the source of the set off alarm. "Dad?" He said hopefully, but then the hunter put his hand over his mouth.

"Did I say you could talk?" He snarled and Derek instantly took a step forwards.

"Don't-" The werewolf began to warn but was cut off by another voice.

"Stiles? Oh my god!" Sheriff Stilinski was at the door, with what looked like some other officers behind him, and he urgently ran towards his son. The hunter removed the gun from Stiles' temple and waved it desperately in the Sheriff and the others direction.

"Don't. You. Move." he threatened, and Sheriff Stalinski immediately stopped in his tracks, raising is hands in a calming manner.

"What's going on here?" Stilinski cautiously questioned, while he tried to assess the situation with what he could see. _The holding cells were open, one door appearing to belong to Isaac Lahey is destroyed. Where is he?Derek Hale is here, but he doesn't appear to be on the Unsub's side- otherwise Stiles wouldn't be held in such a manner before we came in. Chances are he wanted something- possibly from Derek. The man himself is disguised as a police officer, but he isn't because I've never seen him before. He is injured- his leg has a nasty gash, and he looks a bit battered. Derek does not appear to have any injuries. Where is Isaac? Stiles-**the victim**_ _appears to have his arms restrained behind in some manner. Seems to be in some pain. From what I can see there is a slight bruise on his temple and a little bit of blood on his neck. How did he get cut? How did he get cut? Where is Isaac Lahey? **How did his son get injured? **_Stilinski pushed the thoughts out of his head. He couldn't figure anything out in this situation.

"What's going on is that I'm getting out of here," the hunter said as he returned the gun to Stiles' temple before using his other hand to grip Stiles' hair, forcing his head up, ignoring the flash of pain made prominent in Stiles' face. Stiles himself cried out, but the hunter only pulled harder. "I thought I told you to shut up." He said nastily before concluding "And this kid's gonna help me."

Stilinski tried to remain calm. "Okay. Okay, what do you want?"

The man once again pointed his gun at the men behind the Sheriff. "All phones, weapons, all of it over there." He jerked his gun to the corner of the room. Stilinski and his men walked slowly to the corner of the room and pointedly removed the holsters from their belts, and their phones from their pockets, before turning back to back to the hunter and waited for his next command. He pointed the gun at Derek. "That includes you, mutt." He said harshly, and Derek scowled before removing his phone from his pocket and chucking it in the corner of the room before moving to the crowd of police officers in the corner(as signalled by another jerking movement of the hunter's gun).

The hunter waited a moment, supposedly in thought, before pushing his hostage into the corner with the others. Stiles stumbled a bit on his feet before he felt the comforting arms of his father wrap around his shoulders, and he tried not to twitch from the pain(something his father noticed). "Thank God." Stilinski breathed. But the hunter wasn't finished.

"One at a time I'm going to call you over. I'm going to check you have nothing on you, and then you're going to go over there." He indicated a cell that was still intact. "After that I will leave. Understand?" The men nodded slowly, and the hunter called the first officer over before carefully patting him down, then sending him to the cell.

Derek eyed the hunter. _He hasn't got Stiles any more. If I attacked him now I could take him down. _He glanced to his left and saw Stiles studying him-as if he knew what Derek was thinking- and shook his head slightly. Derek looked back at the hunter. Stiles was right, if he attacked him now he'd wolf out in front of everyone, and that wasn't a good idea. But Derek still wanted to, so badly.

One by one the men were called into the cells, then Sheriff Stilinski(who noted what looked like shattered glass on the floor when he accidentally stepped on it), then Derek. Stiles was the last one left and stood forwards and let the man pat him down. The hunter then retrieved Stiles' phone, and pocketed it, and Stiles took a step towards the cells. However, the hunter obviously had other ideas in mind since he stood between the cell and Stiles, and shut it swiftly.

"Not you." he said gently, and put a controlling hand on Stiles' shoulder to steer him out of the cells.

"Wait! What are you doing?!" Stilinski cried desperately from within the cell. "You said you'd put us in here and leave. Why are you taking him with you?"

"I'm not stupid, this is a police department. I need insurance to leave here. _He's_ my insurance." The hunter replied in a matter of fact tone. He looked back at Stiles, "I'm so sorry about before, but they were more likely to do what I say if I hurt you a little."

"Couldn't you have let me in on that joke?" Stiles asked angrily.

Stilinski couldn't believe it. This man had been playing him all this time, he was _smart_. "I can tell that you're intelligent, so you'll know that taking the son of a Sheriff isn't a good idea. It would honestly be better if you leave him here."

"He's right, you know." Stiles agreed, and tried to get closer to the cells only to be pulled roughly back by the hunter who once again pressed the gun to his temple.

"I know what I'm doing. You're worth something. Granted, your father would be worth a lot more, but I reckon he'd give me more trouble."

"Oh, you have no idea the amount of trouble I am. I'm a pain in the ass, really." Stiles tried to persuade the man.

"Don't get me wrong... Stiles? I'm not afraid to hurt you if I have to. I'm not afraid to _kill_ you. But if you do what I say you'll be home in no time." And with that the man left the cells, Stiles dragged along with him.

Stilinski turned to Derek. "What the _hell _is going on?! Who is this man?"

…...

It was a surprisingly undisturbed walk to the car park, with not a person in sight. _I just have no luck today, I guess. _Stiles was still being practically dragged by the man, because there was no way he was willingly going to let this guy take him away, but the man didn't seem to care.

When they reached the car, the man let go of Stiles, but made of point of showing he still had his gun. Stiles doubted he'd get very far regardless. He was rather battered, he still had his hands cuffed behind his back, and even thought the hunter was also injured, he was also way stronger than him- though Stiles wouldn't admit it. "So you gonna leave me here then? I can just walk back by myself, it's fine. Not very far, so don't worry." Stiles could not wait to get back.

The man just faintly smiled. "No. You know I can't just leave you here." he said, leaning against the trunk of the car.

_No, he couldn't mean... _Stiles glanced quickly at the gun which had returned to the man's holster. "Then, what?" Stiles questioned, trying to push back the possibility that popped into his head.

The man just popped open the trunk and indicated for Stiles to get inside. Stiles, though relieved that he wasn't getting murdered tonight, wasn't _that _relieved.

"No. I'm not going in there." Stiles said firmly, trying to sound confident, though he wasn't really feeling that way; this man seemed unstable. The hunter just raised his eyebrow. "I'm _not_. If you put me in there you wont get very far because I will scream as loud as I fucking can and I won't stop." As soon as Stiles said it he wished he hadn't because the hunter reached into the trunk and pulled out a bit of cloth and some duct tape. "No. _No._" Stiles protested, but the man just glanced back pointedly at the gun in his holster, and Stiles obediently opened his mouth, and let the hunter gag him. _This sucks._

After that the hunter pushed a rather miffed Stiles in the trunk, "Perhaps next time you'll learn to shut your mouth, eh?" He laughed quietly, then the lid slammed shut and Stiles was in darkness.

_Dun Dun Duuuuun. This is the end of chapter two :) I worked hard so please review. Honestly I need to know your guys thoughts on it. Is it good, bad? What about the personalities of my characters? Which version of the bad guy do you like?_

_Also I need a name for the bad guy. If you guys leave a name **with **your review I may consider using it :) Please?_

_Have fun, and I'll try to write the next chapter quickly(if you liked it, that is)_


	3. Chapter 3

They weren't stuck in the cells for very long, but it was long enough for the Sheriff to quiz Derek on his side of events.

_"I don't know what happened, okay? The truth is I persuaded Stiles to take me here because I had to check on Isaac. I-er-knew him from before. I had to see if he was okay. I was waiting at the front_(at this point Stilinski saw him steal a glance at one of his officers) _but Stiles had gone on because he needed the toilet. Then the fire alarm went off. I don't know what it was but something didn't feel right. By the time I got to the cells, the man was attacking Isaac with a needle... Oh, the needle? It smashed on the floor later. Stiles was on the floor, handcuffed. I immediately tried to help, but Isaac ran off. I didn't go after him because I was worried about leaving Stiles there, but then that man_(the Sheriff was surprised to note a certain amount of venom in his voice) _grabbed Stiles and threatened to inject him with whatever was in that needle, then obviously decided the gun was a better weapon. I don't know what he wanted, I think he just was trying to get out but then you guys turned up. That's all I know."_

After that, the Sheriff couldn't get much more out of him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Derek knew more. "We have cameras, you know. So I'm going to check out your story as soon as we're out of here." Derek's face hardened, but he didn't say anything, and it wasn't soon afterwards that the remaining officers of the P.D discovered them in the cells, and they were released.

Desperate to start the search for his son straight away, he sent most of his officer to search the P.D and it's grounds for his son, then ran to his desk to check the surveillance footage, before suddenly sitting up and scanning the room, only to find Derek leaving the main entrance. "Where do you think you're going?!" He demanded, immediately standing to walk towards Derek.

Derek glanced back at the front entrance, uneasy, and Stilinski got the feeling that Derek _really _wanted to go. "I've told you everything I know. You have my details from _before_." Stilinski knew he was talking about when he was a fugitive. "You can call me if you need me."

Derek turned to leave again, but Stilinski grabbed his arm, only to get a very definite glare from Derek as he looked at the Sheriff's hand on his arm. He let go warily. "You can"t just _leave_. Not after what just happe-"

Derek cut him off, "Am I under arrest?" He asked impatiently.

"No..." The Sheriff said slowly, when Derek stalked out of the door without another word. _What an arse! I have half a mind to arrest him right now. I'm sure it wouldn't be that hard to find something, I mean it is Derek Hale after all. Why is he so eager to leave anyway? And how does he know Isaac? 'From before' isn't really a good explanation. And why'd he ask Stiles to take him here? Him and Scott nearly got him arrested on murder charges. _ The Sheriff started to stalk back to his desk, his mind back to the case. _Derek mentioned something about a needle. I didn't see one- but Derek said it smashed later... Smashed glass? _The Sheriff looked up and called his nearest Officer over, "Eaton! Get back to the cells. There is some smashed glass on the floor. I think it was a needle with something in it. Get it sent to the lab now." Eaton nodded and ran out of the room.

The Sheriff sat back at his desk and looked back at his computer to check the cameras. He saw the Unsub first, limping into the Station from the back, walking towards the back room that held the keys to the cells. Around that time Stiles and Derek entered(though the Sheriff couldn't get a clear view of Derek's face, his face angling his eyes out of view- but the Sheriff was certain it was him), and Derek walked up to the Officer at the desk. _Holy crap! Is Derek smiling? Maybe this guy is human after all. _Stilinski looked up a moment to glance at the officer in question. She was busy making sure that they were getting blood samples from the corridor._ She has a thing for Derek? _The sheriff shrugged and turned back to screen to watch Stiles walk past the desk, but not to the toilets, to the back room that the Unsub was currently in. They missed each other by a matter of seconds, the Unsub leaving the room, then the corridor just as Stiles turned around the corner. But the Unsub was going the wrong way. Stiles went into the room, and found the keys missing, and left in the direction of the cells, while the Unsub took a a box containing a needle out of his pocket, turning back the way he came, back to where Stiles was walking. Stilinski's lips tightened as he watched Stiles nearly bump into the Unsub, and started talking, before Stiles suddenly turned to run back down the corridor only to get grabbed and dragged toward the cells. The Sheriff watched his son try to grab the fire alarm only to get swung into the wall, then get his hands cuffed behind his back, only steps from the cells, before getting dragged to the them.

Then he noticed something strange. In the cell room, there was a view of Isaac's face through the little window on the door to his cell. He looked straight at the camera and the screen turned white. _What the hell? Do we have a malfunctioning camera? _By the time the white faded-_It looks kind of looks like a bright light hit the lens..._- Stiles was sat on the floor, the Unsub appeared to be unconscious and Derek was looking down at a cowering Isaac on the floor. He watched Isaac run off. _Derek didn't seem to try so hard to make him stay, but then again, neither did Stiles. _From the next lot of footage, the Sheriff, although extremely angry at what his son appeared to be going through, had to admit that it looked like Derek had nothing to do with it. His story checked out.

_For now. _The grim thought crept into his mind. He couldn't help feeling that what Derek told him wasn't the whole story.

Finally, he watched the Unsub drag Stiles out the cells. A tiny bit of hope left in his heart, the Sheriff continued to watch the Unsub take Stiles- waiting for him to lock Stiles in another room or _something, anything_. However that hope faded when he saw the man leave through the back entrance, Stiles still in hand. Stilinski thumped the table hard with his fist and looked up, frustration creeping up on him, only to see out of the corner of his eye an officer hovering nervously by his desk.

He took a deep breath to calm himself before asking "Yes. What is it?"

The Officer wrung his hands nervously. "We, er, searched the whole building, Sir. But we can't find them anywhere. But we can keep looking until we do."

Stilinski didn't speak for a moment, trying to keep his emotions under control, making sure the sadness and worry he was feeling didn't creep on to his face. "It's okay." He said shakily, and indicated the screen, before collapsing back into his chair. "You don't have to look any more. They're already gone."

…...

Stiles didn't know how long he was in the trunk of the car, and although he tried to concentrate on the number of turns the car made he lost count almost immediately. The truth is, he was freaking out _and_ he hadn't taken his medication _and_ he couldn't seem to control his thoughts. He didn't bother screaming out since barely any noise could be heard anyway, and didn't bother kicking the boot, not wanting to anger his captor. He did try to get out of his cuffs first, but they were so tight they were literally cutting his wrists, and any movement was extremely painful. He had heard you could remove them but dislocating your thumbs, but Stiles had no idea to even start that. After a couple of moments struggling, Stiles stopped, exhausted, and tried to calm his breathing, listening to the sound of the radio creep it's way into the trunk. _This isn't getting me anywhere _Stiles decided, and tried to think of what to do next.

_Maybe this car has a safety latch _Stiles thought hopefully and spent the next couple of minutes patting down the trunk for some kind of switch. He was only half way through his search before he grimly realised that there probably wouldn't be. This is a _hunter's _car. He tried not to imagine the countless other werewolves trapped in here at some point, being taken somewhere else to be tortured before-

_No. _That was the last thing Stiles wanted to think about. _For now I should concentrate on getting out of here. _But that didn't stop the nagging thoughts in the back of his mind reminding him how dangerous the hunter really was.

After a moment Stiles felt the car slow, then stop abruptly. Stiles waited impatiently before realising the radio had stopped and was replaced by what sounded like a phone ringing. It was only when someone answered that Stiles realised that it was, and the hunter was using the hands-free set on his car.

"What have you done?!" The voice on the other end snarled, and Stiles couldn't help thinking he'd heard it somewhere before. "It's all over the news."

"Already?" Stiles heard the hunter say uncertainly.

"Well, what did you expect? He is the Sheriff's son!"

_They're talking about me. _Stiles realised. _That means people are already looking for me. _He strained his ears to hear the rest of the conversation.

"Look, Gerard." The hunter said, "It got really complicated in there. Derek Hale was there and I had to get out. This was the only way." _Oh, shit. Allison's grandpa. I remember Scott freaking out about him. He said he was ruthless._

"I don't care." Gerard snapped. "Not only did you fail at your task, but you took the Stilinski kid. This boy wasn't meant to get involved. At least, not yet." _Not yet? _Stiles wondered how much Gerard really knew, and what he was planning to do.

"Look. I can try again, just let me talk person to person, maybe get some help from some of the other hunters and we can-"

"No." Gerard interrupted harshly "Don't come anywhere near me. You did this a police station, dumb ass. You were injured and bleeding. The police have you on surveillance. They have your DNA. It's not long before they figure out who you are. I've already notified the other hunters. If you try to approach me or any of them, the police will be on your ass quicker than bees to honey."

"What are you saying?" The hunter asked angrily.

"I'm saying you're on you're own." Stiles heard the phone click and realised that Gerard had hung up. There was a moment of silence before Stiles flinched at the sudden thumping noises from the front of the car.

"Shit!" Stiles heard the hunter curse, and realised the noises were probably the man beating the hell out of his car. _What does this mean for me? _Stiles wondered, knowing full well that the information the hunter had received was going to influence his decision.

He heard the hunter leave the car and waited for the man to at least open the trunk, but after a couple of minutes of silence, Stiles got worried. _What if he just decided to leave me here? That I was too dangerous to have around, and just parked his car in the middle of nowhere and left? _ Stiles strained his ears for noise, any noise but found none. _Oh shit. I'm going to die here. _

The darkness of the car seemed to envelope him, but he could still feel somehow the presence of the metal walls around him, swallowing him, and he began to panic, kicking the lid of the trunk with his feet, trying to scream "Let me out!" through the gag, only to hear a pathetic moan.

_Oh god oh god oh god... _Stiles thought, tears starting to fall down his cheeks, thrashing his body at the metal cage around him, so immersed in his panic that he did not hear the quickly approaching steps to the car. When the lid did open, it came as such as a surprise that Stiles immediately ducked his head in his shirt, shielding himself from the light outside, relief flowing across his entire body.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" The hunter snarled but stopped when he saw the condition Stiles was in, struggling to get breath but finding there was none, and the gag wasn't helping."Damn!" The hunter exclaimed to himself, then reached forwards, ripping the tape from around Stiles head then removed the cloth from in the teenagers mouth. Stiles immediately opened his mouth gasping for air in a panic and the hunter sat Stiles into a seated position, arms around his shoulders. "It's okay, it's okay. Just breathe, it's okay" _I'm trying _Stiles thought but found despite himself that he was in fact calming down, his breath slowing to a normal rate. He sat there for a moment in silence before the man stood up, eyebrow raised.

"What was that about?" he asked.

Stiles didn't answer straight away, trying to arrange his thoughts into a more ordered mess than what they already were. "I thought you'd left me here to die." Stiles said slowly, not wanting to give the man any ideas.

"No. I'd never do that to you." The man said definitely, and Stiles began to relax a little, able to observe his surroundings. They seemed to be parked in some sort of really large shed, or storage unit. There was a little room over to the side that Stiles assumed was the bathroom, and a little fridge, and an old stove in the corner hooked up to a canister of gas. There were also a load of nasty looking tools and chains lining the wall and Stiles realised that this must be where the hunter takes his kidnapped werewolves to 'interrogate' them. Stiles shuddered, trying so hard not to think about that. "You're just a scared human kid," the hunter continued "I'd kill you in a much more humane way, as painless as possible."

Stiles winced at that new information and turned to glare at the hunter. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Not really," the hunter said in an unvarnished tone. "Just being honest."

"Look, man," Stiles suggested desperately "You've got to let me go." The hunter opened his mouth to speak angrily, but Stiles cut him off before he started. "No, hear me out. You think it's going to be any easier to escape the situation you're in with some kid in your trunk? I'm just going to make things off. It'd be better for you if you just dropped me off somewhere and drove away."

"Don't you realise that this situation is the reason I've got to keep you around?!" The hunter replied fiercely. "I'm in serious shit now and people are going to know who I am. I've got no on else to help me if things go the worst. I need you as leverage, at least until this calms down."

"It's not going to calm down! As long as I'm missing they're not going to stop looking. I'm the _Sheriff's son_. You're best bet is to let me go before this gets too much publicity." Stiles disagreed, but the hunter just grabbed the gun from his holster, pushing it at Stiles' forehead.

"Maybe I should just kill you now. That would solve that problem, and the huge headache you're giving me." The man threatened and Stiles swallowed nervously.

"Okay. I get it aright. I'll stop asking." Stiles said quietly and the hunter slowly lowered his gun before grabbing Stiles' arm and pulled him out of the trunk. "Hey! What are you doing?" Stiles tried to pull himself away.

The hunter just looked coldly at Stiles. "Well, I can't have you sat here all night."

_Well that's chapter 3. I hope it's aright. :) It was quite hard to write. Also, I'm hoping to reveal the hunters name in the next chapter but no one has suggested any names :(_

_So as always, please review and please leave a name, whether it a first name, a middle name, a nick name, a last name or the whole she-bang. Also, I want to know what you guys think of the baddie. I don't really know where I'm going with him yet :) _


	4. Chapter 4

Everything had happened so quickly at the station. Since discovering Stiles was no longer in the building shots of the unknown kidnapper from the surveillance footage were released to the press, whilst his and Stiles' description were sent to all Police Departments in California and surrounding states. The Beacon Hills PD was trying to at least get an ID of the man so they'd know where to start.

The Sheriff was trying his best to remain calm in this situation, but with Stiles gone he couldn't help wondering all the horrible things that could have happened to him. All he could imagine was going out on a call only to discover Stiles' body, bruised and bloody, lying in a ditch. All he could imagine was Stiles dead. _All he could imagine... _He tried to blink the thoughts from his head as he ran his hand through his hair and began explaining the man's profile to the small army of officers standing around him.

"Considering the way the man entered the building, or the way the attack was planned out in so much detail, I would say he was either a professional or had done this before. He is intelligent- manipulative of people's emotions and expectations of him. He doesn't seem to worry about harming children since the person he attacked and" Stilinski swallowed, and paused briefly before continuing, "the one he has taken are both 16. Since the person he tried to kill has disappeared, we are having difficulty figuring out his motives." He noticed an officer walking purposefully in his direction and so turned slightly to face him. "Erm, excuse me a moment." He said to the crowd, before guiding Eaton to the corridor.

Barely able to keep his excitement, Eaton spoke first. "It's the lab, sir. The results are back!"

Stilinski's head shot up. _He's happy, right? That means we might have some good news. _"Anything?" He asked, trying not to get his hopes up.

"We think we have an ID on the kidnapper," Eaton said, however his voice the lowered to a sombre tone. "But I don't think you're going to like it."

Stilinski nodded, and breathed out heavily. _Progress. This is progress, _he tried to convince himself. _We'll have him back in no time._ "Perhaps this conversation would be better suited at my desk." Stilinski suggested, and the two made their way there, Eaton pausing to call Taylor(the officer who made sure the samples were taken) over.

"So, what blood samples turned up?" Stilinski enquired .

"Well, there's two." Taylor said somewhat nervously. "The first belonged to the kidnapper. It was everywhere." She paused, studying Stilinski's face.

"And the second?" The Sheriff asked, brows raising in confusion.

"The second belongs to Stiles." Taylor finished, and added before the Sheriff could butt in "But it was only a minute amount. We found traces of it on the stem of the needle."

Stilinski thought back to the actual incident, when he noticed blood on Stiles' neck. _That bastard. He threatened Stiles with the needle so much that he actually broke the skin on Stiles' neck and cut him. _He couldn't imagine how scared Stiles must have been with that _crazy asshole _holding him, not knowing if the next minute the man would flip out and hurt him again.

He nodded, slowly, hand absent-mindedly rubbing his chin in a couple moments silence before looking and asking "You said you had an ID?"

"Oh. Yes," Eaton was already on the computer, bringing up the information and turning the screen to face the other two. "Simon Eli Colt, 42 years old."

Stilinski looked at the photo on screen. There was no denying that the man he saw was also the cop who held up the PD; he wasn't going to forget that face in a hurry. "His DNA is on file. Does that mean...?"

"Yes. He's been involved as a suspect and person of interest in many cases over the past 20 or so years." Eaton looked apologetically at the Sheriff. "This is the bit you're not going to like."

Stilinski mentally prepared himself for the news. "Go on."He said nervously.

"He had no convictions up until the age of 24. His wife was killed in their home whilst he was at work. It was filed as some sort of animal attack. A wolf, they reckon."

The Sheriff's brow furrowed. "A wolf? How did it get in?"

"They never figured it out, sir. There were no windows open, doors shut. They couldn't even find as much as a claw mark on the outside walls or window panes. But the coroner said there was no denying the attack was a wolf. I mean, there were claw marks inside, and on..um, _her._ They even found traces of wolf fur." Eaton paused before continuing. "It's as if the wolf opened the back door to let itself out, shutting it on the way."

"The back door?"

"The front door was locked, Sir. So unless the wolf had a key... And hands." Eaton looked freaked out enough as it was so Stilinski thought it best to not mention that the wolf would need hands to open the back door in the first place.

"The whole case is a bit weird to be honest." Stilinski mused, thinking back to all the 'animal attacks' last year which was somehow down to Kate Argent.

"Anyway," Eaton continued "It seems after that he was connected to a series of unsolved murders and disappearances. The cases were nothing alike, the victims being any age, varying backgrounds, different locations, any gender. Sometimes the victim was just one, sometimes whole families. The ones whose bodies did turn up were killed in multiple different ways with different weapons- Gunshot, poison, crossbow, bludgeoned to death, " Eaton paused, a look halfway between incredulity and disgust on his face. "_Beheading_." His face looked even more horrified, as the other two stood at the desk simultaneously cringed. "He didn't stop there with the chopping either. Apparently they found some of his victim still hung by their wrists, bodies chopped in half at the waist..." He stopped, noticing the look of dismay on the Sheriff's face, but the Sheriff had just noticed another parallel to the Kate Argent case. _Wasn't Laura Hale cut in two from the waist? _Eaton cleared his throat apprehensively, before carrying on "Really, the list goes on. We were able to connect him to many of these cases, but never got enough to prosecute. He's good. Regardless, weird stuff happened with the evidence we did get." Eaton added.

"Like what?" The Sheriff asked, still in a bit of a daze over _beheading_.

"Evidence disappearing, witnesses retracting their testimonies, sudden rock-hard alibis."

"Do you think he's got any help from the outside?" Taylor asked.

"Perhaps," Eaton mused, then turned back to the Sheriff. "But I do think this case is a lot bigger than we originally thought. There is something weird going on here."

…...

_This is definitely on my list of worst days of my life. _The hunter hadn't actually treated Stiles that badly, but Stiles knew he was under explicit instructions to _sit down and shut up_, and Stiles didn't want to upset this man in a hurry. After leading Stiles away from the trunk, the man had made Stiles sit in a chair in the corner with restraints built in for the wrists. The man soon after got the handcuff key out of his pocket, but then promptly swore at the state of Stiles's wrists after unlocking them.

"Damn!" He looked Stiles in the eyes "Don't move." He said, a sort of threat in his voice that indicated what would happen to Stiles _if he did_, then turned back to the car, running for the front seat.

Stiles contemplated making a run for it, but the odds were stacked against him. He didn't know where he was, and by the time he got to the doors the man would know _and_ he had a gun. What did Stiles have? Sarcasm was his only defence.

Instead he took the opportunity to try to suck as many details as he could from the room. The door to what he assumed was a bathroom was open slightly, and from what he could see he was right. It appeared to be the only other room in the whole warehouse-shed(Stiles still wasn't sure what exactly what exactly it was that he was in). Everything else was in this big room. He skimmed over the obvious instruments of torture to concentrate on the other aspects of the room. In the corner there was a mattress, with a single thin pillow and a couple of grey blankets. _Does he sleep there? It doesn't look very comfortable. Or hygienic. _He could see an old TV set(cheesy antenna included), with a metal garden chair pointed at it, and in the corner, covered with papers and bits of metal and all sorts of scrap, a little table. Paper was not the only thing on the table though, since Stiles could see what looked like a yellowed photo peeking out from under the stack, a smart jewellery box _and my phone! _Stiles remembered the hunter pocketing his phone back at the station, and now it was on the table, back removed, battery off to one side, with a pair of tiny pliers and a small screwdriver on top.

Stiles suddenly looked up as he heard the car radio come back on- a dusty old country song- and he watched the man return, first aid kit in hand. He set it down by Stiles, and reached for the teen's wrists. Stiles flinched, and tried to pull way. He knew the man was only trying to mend his injured wrists, but he couldn't help it. The man, however just kept his grip with one hand and with the other pulled out some clear liquid and a small square of what looked like cotton.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked gruffly, but Stiles didn't answer. _I thought you wouldn't care. _The man didn't take Stiles's silence personally, and carried on with his work, pouring a little of the liquid onto the square of cotton. "This might hurt." He warned, before dabbing Stiles's wounds with the cotton, and Stiles breathed in through his teeth, trying to pull away before he even realised what he was doing. The man just frowned. "Sorry." Stiles was surprised to hear the man say that, but still didn't say anything. "That was my fault. I was more than a little pissed even before you pulled the alarm. I guess I just wanted to take it out on someone." After that there was silence again, and before the long the man had finish bandaging Stiles's wrists. The man then took hold of Stiles's arm, and led it to the restraint attached to the chair.

"Don't." Stiles pleaded, but the man carried on, and restrained his arm.

"Don't get me wrong." The man bitterly spat. "Just because I'm taking care of you, it doesn't mean I'm soft. You are still a threat, and I still need you." The man sighed and rubbed his temple. "I just don't think it would be right for me to harm someone who is-as far as my knowledge allows- innocent. I'm not handcuffing you again, and _that_" He indicated the restraints "shouldn't hurt you." Stiles had to admit that the one he used this time was more comfortable. It was the one you saw in the movies that were used to restrain patients at an asylum, which buckled around the wrist. The man did the same with Stiles's other arm, then sat down in a chair by Stiles, and rolled up his trouser leg to look at the gnash in his leg. "I'll look at the rest of your wounds in a moment." He muttered, quietly, and Stiles wasn't sure if the hunter was saying it to _him_ in particular, or to try and lift some of the guilt in his head.

"Um.." Stiles didn't look at the man as he spoke, but instead focused at a random spot in front of him, trying to not sound so nervous. "What are you doing with my phone?"Stiles turned his head slightly to see the hunter's eyes fixed on him. "If that's okay..." He trailed off miserably, but to his surprise the hunter cleared his throat.

"I'm removing the GPS from your phone." He said slowly. "That way, if I call your father to arrange anything, such as ransom or release, he won't be able to track your phone straight away and he'd have to do it the old-fashioned way -triangulating cell towers- which takes some time." Stiles could detect a hint of pride in the hunter's voice. "I would use some blocker software, that bounces the signal, but I'm a bit low on supplies at the moment, and my contacts..." The man paused, trying to control the flash of anger that seeped through him "_Can't _help me at the moment."

After that, the man worked in silence again, the only noise to be heard coming in through the radio in the man's car. Soon enough the music ended and the presenter's voice crackled through the system. _…The route 49 has a traffic jam due to an overturned... Avoid all routes heading towards... Many borders are blocked due to what we're told is a routine police check... The weather is thought to be very hot and sunny the next couple of days with temperature rising to highs of... Politician Vincent Stevens refuses to comment... After a hold up in Beacon Hills Police station. _Both Stiles and the hunter immediately looked up, straining their ears to hear the information. _16 year old, son of a respected individual in the police community …Stilinski was taken, known by his friends as Stiles. Police have identified the suspect as 42 year old Simon Colt, and is described as a white male... Any information is to immediately call... Do not approach as he is considered armed and dangerou-... Any information on Isaac Lahey as he is also a major witness to the event... People of the small town Crownswor... Celebrating today after they reached a record-breaking... _

_ Simon Colt? _Stiles looked at the man. _They've already identified him. That's good, right? That means I get out of here._

"Shit!" the man exclaimed, as he threw himself out of his seat and began pacing the room. "Fuck!" He turned the radio off, then turned to the endless rows of shelves that lined the space. "Fuck, fuck fuck!" _Simon_ started taking his anger out on the shelves, assortments of tools and tin cans falling to the floor. Stiles tried to push back as far as he could on the chair unable to shelter himself from any objects hurtling towards him, and curling his knees up to his chest, shut his eyes tightly. _This guy has serious anger issues. It's not like I didn't fucking warn him._

After a moment he realised that he could no longer hear any crashing noises and hesitantly uncurled, opening his eyes, to find Simon standing in front of him, staring coldly at Stiles, anger still etched on his face, before spitting the words. "This is all _your _fucking fault."

…...

After Derek had managed to escape the station, he ran as fast he could to his car to check on Isaac. He cringed inwardly. He knew that he sounded cold to the Sheriff, and there was nothing wanted to do more at that point than to find the bastard who took Stiles and tear him limb from limb, but the point was it was full moon, and Isaac Lahey was locked in his car.

He paused halfway to his destination, having spotted Stiles's car, empty, and wondered how Stiles was doing. Truth was, Stiles was probably braver than anyone else, himself included. He was only human, he had no special abilities- he wasn't super strong, he wasn't amazing at fighting, he couldn't super smell, or see, or heal, or even fire a crossbow, yet he helped out and put himself in the same amount of danger as everyone else. _He's probably annoying the hell out of that bastard right now. _That thought comforted him a little.

He reached into the window of the Jeep, searching for something, anything that could help him find Stiles. He wasn't particularly fond of tracking by scent but anything would do at the moment. He pulled out a jacket that reeked of Stiles, and vowed to come back later to start his search. Then, he continued to his car. Isaac was there, and surprisingly enough, still human. He was sat there, rocking slightly, hands chewing his nails, an intense look of guilt on his face.

Derek unlocked the car and Isaac looked wide-eyed at him, before opening his mouth to say shakily "I'm... sorry." He looked back down quickly, wringing his hands in front of him.

Derek frowned. Something wasn't right. This was more than Isaac being upset that he nearly attacked Stiles. This was more than Isaac restraining himself because of the full moon. This was something more. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Isaac looked back up, tears framing his features. "I saw him. I saw him take Stiles. And I couldn't stop him."

_So, that is chapter 4. Thanks to Sarah and __for their suggestion for names. Very helpful :) I hope you enjoyed my chapter and I am so happy with your reviews. Thank you so much. No matter how I write Simon, I don't think I can make him a really bad guy, because in my mind, he isn't. He is a guy who thinks he is doing the right thing and is now stuck in a terrible situation. I hope to enjoy playing with that idea later. Sorry it took so long to write. Basically I'm back at Sixth Form now, so I have less time. As always review, and until next time have fun :)_


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey guys :) Sorry the chapter took so long, I have college to take care of, but here is chapter 5. Enjoy!_

…_..._

Scott had a tough day to say at the least. But at least it showed him he was able to control himself on a full moon.

After escaping the freezer he saw that creepy lizard _thing_ scuttle away. He and Allison just kind of stood there in silence. "What was that?" Scott finally asked, confusion flitted on his face. Allison's eyes eventually tore themselves from the corridor, and she fixed them on Scott's face.

"I don't... know..." She admitted, studying his features. "But, hey," She said softly, a slight hint of a smile in her voice. "Look at you."

"What?" Scott asked puzzled, looking down at himself. "_Oh_." He realised. _It's full moon and I'm okay._ He began to laugh quietly, "I'm okay." He repeated gently to himself.

"Yes, you are." Allison smiled. "So, uh, what do you wanna do now?" She hinted, stepping towards him slowly.

Scott blushed slightly, but got out his phone. "I'll just check how Derek and Stiles are doing first." He explained, but frowned when he looked down at the screen.

Allison noticed the concern on Scott's face instantly. "What is it?" She asked, but Scott didn't answer. _26 missed calls from mum? _Still frowning Scott found Stiles's number. "Scott?" Allison cautioned, worry present in her voice.

"No answer." Scott muttered, more to himself than to Allison as he brought the phone back desperately from his ear to flick back through his contacts.

"Have you tried Derek's?"

"That's what I'm doing _now_." He snapped, and Allison flinched back, hurt. _Oh shit. I didn't mean that._ "Sorry," Scott immediately tried to apologise. Allison just nodded silently. He brought the phone back from his ear again in frustration. "Derek isn't answering his phone either." _But I don't know if I should be surprised. Derek rarely answers his phone. **But right now**?! I don't know if either of them are okay: Derek, Isaac, **Stiles**_.

"What now?" Allison asked uncertainly, her question not as joyful as it's similar counterpart only a minute ago. Her question was left unanswered as Scott's phone rang.

He quickly answered, "Mum?"

"Scott! What the hell?! I've been trying to contact you for ages. You need to get home now!" Marissa's voice rang into Scott's ear. But there was something wrong. Despite Scott's sudden inability to answer the phone, she didn't sound angry, only... desperate.

"Why, mum? What is it?" Scott asked, not noticing Allison's distressed form pacing frantically next to him.

"Scott. You need to come home fast. I don't want tell you on the phone. It's-"

"No." Scott interrupted, his voice cracking. "Please mum, I know something's wrong. My friends wont answer their phones, and you..." He trailed off and recollected his thoughts before continuing. "Can't you at least tell me what this is about?"

He heard his mum sigh on the other end of the line before she answered uneasily "Okay... Its Stiles, Scott. He's... he's... Please Scott, come home. I can't tell you like this."

Scott squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push all the various horrible scenarios out of his head. "Is he...?" Scott's voice cracked, unable to continue.

"No. No." His mum tried to reassure him, before faltering. "I don't know." She admitted quietly, and Scott felt his heart stop.

Despite himself, he started to feel angry, and most of it was now being directed at his mother. _What does she mean 'She doesn't know.'? He either is or he isn't. There is no inbetween_. "You're not making any sense! What the hell is that supposed to even mean?" He shouted before blinking back his anger guiltily, noticing that Allison had backed into the wall in horror. Scott looked down at his hands. _Shit. My claws are out. I'd better calm down. _He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself before apologising, but his mum spoke first.

"Scott. Come home, now." She said, trying to keep her voice steady, but not being able to keep it from shaking. _She's hurting too. Of course she would. If something has happened to Stiles, she'd care. She's known him as long as I have. She's cared for him in the past. He still matters. I'm not the only one hurting._

Scott took a sideways glance at Allison who just nodded. "I should probably get home." She whispered.

"Okay, mum. I'm coming"

…...

_Isaac looked back up, tears framing his features. "I saw him. I saw him take Stiles. And I couldn't stop him."_

Derek frowned. "What? What do you mean?"

"I'm so sorry, Derek. But I locked myself in your car like you asked, and then I saw them. I saw Stiles and that man from earlier." Isaac explained miserably.

"That man? You mean the hunter?! Where are they? Where did they go?" Derek took another step towards Isaac, only to notice Isaac flinch back, and he realised how intimidating he must have looked. He swallowed back the emotion in his throat and asked again, calmer this time, "Where did they go, Isaac? Is Stiles okay?"

Isaac nodded. "I think so. I saw them come out. The hunter was dragging Stiles across the car park. I tried to get to them, but" Isaac looked down guiltily. "I couldn't even get out of the car. It made me shift, Derek; the fact that the hunter was taking Stiles. And I couldn't get out of the car. I tried so hard."

Derek didn't try to console him. He knew it wasn't Isaac's fault, but the truth was, he had bigger things on his mind at the time than Isaac's guilt. "What happened, Isaac?" He asked quietly, trying to remain calm. "I need details."

Isaac nodded again. "I saw him drag Stiles over there." He gestured to the edge of the parking lot. "He had a car parked there. He had a gun. And they were talking. I can't remember exactly what they said, but I think the hunter threatened Stiles with the gun. Then Stiles asked whether he could go back, but the man said no. God, Stiles sounded so _scared_. I could hear it in his heartbeat." Derek said nothing, and just waited for Isaac to continue. Isaac though, didn't pause for very long. He was reciting his memory now more and less against his will, the need for his mind to release all the details stronger than anything else. "He said he was going to put Stiles in the trunk. Stiles said something cocky, because, you know, _Stiles,_ and the man, he uh, gagged Stiles before he put him in the trunk. Said something like '_Maybe next time you'll learn to shut your mouth._' or something. And then he just drove off." Isaac finished, frowning at the memory.

Derek was scowling. _What a jackass. Of course Stiles said something cocky. He always does. It doesn't mean you gag him and put him in the trunk of your car. You don't hurt him full stop_. Granted, Derek had bashed Stiles around a fair couple of times, but that was different. No one _else_ was supposed to hurt Stiles. He was only human after all. "You said he had a car. Do you know where it was? Perhaps I could catch a scent."

Isaac nodded, and led Derek to the edge of the parking lot where the car had been previously. Immediately Derek caught the smell that was most definitely Stiles, and the scent of blood. He tried not to freak out too much about that. _The hunter was injured, remember? And Stiles had a little cut. Nothing else happened. Stiles is fine, other wise Isaac would have said._

"It's no use." Derek said after a while, rubbing his forehead. "I can't do this on my own."

"Meaning?" Isaac wondered out loud. "We're not giving up are we?"

"Of course not!" Derek said incredulously. "I'm just going to need help. I'm going to need Scott."

…...

_This is all your fucking fault. _That's what Simon had said before punching him hard across the face, the force of it tipping Stiles's chair to the floor. That's what he said before screaming at the walls in anger, flinging more and more stuff off the shelves, ignoring Stiles's body curled up on the floor. That's what he had said before getting in the car and driving off, leaving Stiles behind. And those were the words left wringing in Stiles's ears, long after he had gone.

God, it hurt. Not only did his cheek feel like it was on fire, but he manage to bash his already wounded head once again on the way down, so it was double the pain. Unable to move because of the restraints attaching him to he chair, Stiles just lay there on the floor forced to stay where the chair let him. Briefly Stiles wondered where the man had gone, but didn't ponder that thought too long, just happy that he wasn't _here_. It was obvious the guy had some issues, but Stiles didn't really appreciate those issues being directed at him. It's not like the guy didn't know he was doing wrong. From what he had seen already, the man always apologised after he did something like that. But that didn't mean he could keep doing it. After all, no matter what the Simon told him, it was not _his fucking fault _he was here. And Stiles did not want to be stuck in that situation for a minute longer.

He wriggled furiously, testing his bonds for any leeway but found none. _Right. So that's not gonna work. But I have to get out of this chair at least. At least get to my phone. At least give my dad a call. I can't just sit here and be useless. _He thought back to when Simon was chucking stuff around the room. _Maybe he chucked something sharp. I'm hoping he did._

Unable to move very far in the heavy chair, he strained his neck on the floor around him to find a chisel that the man had chucked off one of the shelves full of tools lying by his head. He shuffled slowly, each movement leaving him in agonising pain, before finally getting in a position where he could reach the chisel, scraping the handle with his fingertips a couple of times, before finally grasping the wooden handle. Then he started to work, scraping the blunt edge awkwardly on the leather cuff, trying desperately not to drop it for a couple of minutes before realising that there was no way in hell that it'd work. _This isn't like the movies __**at all**__. I'd have better chance just wiggling my wrists _Stiles thought miserably, dropping the chisel. _Now what the fuck am I supposed to do? I can't just stay here. This is really starting to hurt. _Stiles wiggled a little in his chair, with no results. "Oh, COME ON!" He shouted in frustration, as he moved more and more, the little wriggle he'd started with turning into a full blown frantic rocking. "Let me out of here! Let me out!" In the back of Stiles's head he knew he was being irrational and no amount of fidgeting was going to get him out, but he was sick to death of being there, stuck, _alone_. As much as he hated Simon, it was way worse for him being alone. He just wished Simon would come back already, maybe lift him off the floor. Because when he was alone all he was thinking was the same thoughts he felt in the trunk of the car when he was pushing to get out. All he wanted to do was _get out. Get me out of here. I can't think. I can't move. Get me out. I can't breath. I'm suffocating. I'm going to die here. GET ME OUT! _Stiles really couldn't breath, his lungs didn't seem to be working, and once again he found himself gasping for air, finding none. Despite this he couldn't seem to stop himself from rocking his body, his movements becoming more and more jagged before finally his head slammed roughly on the hard floor and he slipped into unconsciousness.

There was complete silence for less than a second, and then quietly, very quietly, there was the sound of someone breathing.

_**God guys, I am so sorry for the late chapter, but I've had college stuff. This is an ongoing story. I promise. Any ideas, as always post in the reviews. I love to hear your thoughts and opinions on where this should go. And until next time, as always, have fun! **_


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles didn't know how long he was out, but it had obviously been a while. Long enough for Simon to return, and bring his chair back into a sitting position. Long enough to wrap Stiles up in a blanket. And long enough for Simon to tidy the shed, casting worried looks in Stiles's direction when he still didn't wake up; long enough for Simon to fall asleep in a chair facing Stiles's direction so he could keep an eye on him- and by the look on Simon's face, his wasn't having good dreams. Stiles didn't have good dreams either, in fact it could be said that he had none at all, for what he saw when he was unconscious was a deep empty void, where he could see nothing, hear nothing, say nothing, do nothing. When he awoke he lifted his heavy head, eyes straining, trying to keep what little light that was in the room out. And he noticed everything.

Simon stirred, moaning softly in his sleep, and Stiles tried to make as little noise as possible, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes, before the fact that he could not move his wrists harshly reminded him of his predicament. He then noticed that he felt something soft on his cheek and his forehead,- it felt like cotton, so Stiles tried to his best to see it, but only saw a white blur.

Simon opened one eye. "It's a bandage." He said roughly, but did not move from his position, though Stiles could see the look of relief on his face. That fact that he was relived only pissed Stiles off. _Oh, glad you didn't cause me any permanent damage when you punched me in the face, are you? Fucking prick. _Simon must have noticed the flash of annoyance in Stiles's face, because he straightened slightly. "I'm sorry." He said quietly, but Stiles wasn't going to acknowledge the words any time soon. He didn't give a _rats ass _about Simon's _half-assed _apology.

…...

"Sheriff? Sheriff Stilinski?" Stilinski woke to someone's hand shaking his shoulder gently, and he lifted his head from inbetween the various stack of papers at his desk, trying to ignore his banging headache. "What time is it?" He slurred, blinking out the florescent lights of the P.D.

"3:14, Sir." Stilinski recognised the voice of Officer Taylor.

"In the morning?" The Sheriff asked, trying not to think of how long Stiles had been missing at the hands of Colt.

"Um, no sir. In the afternoon." Taylor said uncertainly, hovering now a couple of feet away from his desk.

The Sheriff's head shot up. _Stiles had been gone for a nearly a day?! And we don't even know where. We don't know if he's alive, or hurt. For nearly a day... _"Why didn't you come get me sooner?" He demanded furiously, standing to face the officer. "Three in the afternoon? Three in the fucking afternoon? How the hell am I supposed to find him when I'm asleep?"

Taylor took a couple of steps back. "You stayed up until nearly 3 last night, sir, and you weren't sleeping properly. We thought-"

Stilinski slammed his fist on the desk, making Taylor jump. "You listen to me-"

"No, sir, you listen to me!" Taylor shouted, and the Sheriff ceased talking immediately. He'd known Taylor now for about 6 years, and she'd always been quiet, never one to snap at someone, never shouted. "We know you're hurting, sir. We_ know_. But do you think you're going to find him when you've had no sleep, and you're stumbling around trying to make connections, with the thought of Stiles at the back of your mind?" The Sheriff collapsed back into his chair, but Taylor didn't stop, hurt eating at the edge of her words. "What will you do then, sir, to clear your mind? Turn to drink, like you did before?!"

Stilinski bowed his head. _Before. _He knew what those words meant. "Claudia..." He whispered and Taylor's face softened, before she walked up to him, crouching down to his level, and put a supportive hand on his back.

"I'm sorry," She said quietly, "That was out of line. But you do understand, don't you?"

Stilinski thought back to when he lost Claudia. He couldn't lose Stiles now, after all that's happened. _I can't lose them both. _"He's my son." He said weakly.

"I know. But do you not think that I love Stiles too? That we _all_ love him?" She gestured outside the office to the rest of the P.D. "I assure you that we are all working our asses off searching for him, and when we find him," Taylor looked the Sheriff directly in the eye "Which _we will_, do you think he'll be happy to find you in a state when you hadn't slept for days, that you put yourself at risk? You know that boy worries about you more than anyone else, why else would he force you to eat salad everyday?" Stilinski smiled a bit at that, but the smile was hollow. He couldn't truly be happy right now. "Now," Taylor continued, "Are you going to bury yourself in that until you cause yourself serious harm, or are you going to come with me and make some serious leads in this case?" The Sheriff tilted his head slightingly to the side, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Oh, didn't I tell you?" The officer had a subtle smile on her face, "We think we've found a lead."

…...

It was sunny, and Scott was alone. It was oddly quiet in his room, it seemed quieter than normal. Scott was just waiting for Stiles to bust in any minute, rambling about how he'd figured something out, bursting out some crazy conspiracy theory at 100mph. But he didn't. And Scott waited, and he'd waited. It's not like Scott hadn't tried to do anything. He visited the P.D, but a couple of officers told Scott to go home. He didn't even get to see the Sheriff. The truth was, Scott didn't even know where to start. It was somewhat easier to go against werewolves. He knew what they wanted, he could figure out where they could possibly be hiding, and he could sort it out. But this guy wasn't a werewolf, this guy was a human, and Scott knew practically nothing about him. This guy didn't have a pack. He could have gone anywhere. Stiles could be anywhere. On top of that, Scott didn't even know what Simon wanted with Stiles. Perhaps he'd be able to figure it out if Stiles was there, but Stiles wasn't. _Of course he wasn't. _

More than anything, Scott felt guilty. He should have been there, to see things through, but instead he locked himself in a freezer. _Why?_ Turns out he was fine with the full moon. _I should of been there. This is my fault. I should have been there. It's hard to forget that Stiles is only human, but he is. He can't protect himself as well as us. I should of known that. I should have been there. _

He barely noticed the ring of is phone at first, but as soon as he did hid head shot up, and he did a quick toss of the phone to find it, hitting answer before even looking to see who was calling. "Hello?" He answered hopefully, hoping that it was Stiles, lost somewhere, coming home.

"Scott." Scott pursed his lips, head looking down in disappointment before shouting angrily.

"Derek?! Derek! You call me now?! After me calling you all day yesterday, you call me now? What the fuck happened yesterday, Derek? What the hell have you been doing?"

"Scott, listen to me. I've been looking for Stiles," Derek answered, and Scott took a step back. _Since yesterday? _"I'll explain it all once you get here, okay? I can't do this on my own, I need your help."

…...

Stiles hadn't spoken a word for about an hour. It was quite infuriating how stubborn this kid was, but Simon wasn't going to let himself get angry at the boy again. He'd regretted it almost instantly last time.

It wasn't like he wanted to be in this mess. It wasn't like he'd planned it. He'd planned to kill the boy wolf and get out. _It wasn't meant to be this way. _He looked back at the kid. "Tell you what," he said, but the boy barely raised his head. "If you promise not to run off, I'll untie you from the chair. Sound good?" Stiles still didn't say a word, but he gave his head a quick nod, and Simon sighed, pushing himself out of the garden chair by the metal armrests, barely taking two steps before he paused in front of the teenager. "I don't think I have to warn you what will happen if you do run. I don't wanna have to shoot you." Again, Stiles didn't say a word, so Simon bet over the chair, undoing the leather straps one wrist at a time before walking back to his chair. Stiles sat up and stretched out his joints, wincing occasionally. Simon tried to ignore the flash of guilt that passed through him.

There was a few more minutes silence.

"Giving me the silent treatment, eh? My wife used to do that, too." Simon spoke more out of desperation. But this time to his surprise the kid spoke.

"Your wife?" Stiles asked quietly. "Is she the one in the photograph?" He said, indicating to the desk.

Simon furrowed his brows in confusion. "How did you-?" He asked, the shock of the question apparent in his voice.

"I'm the sheriffs son. I notice things." Stiles answered, and Simon just left it there, happy that the kid was talking again.

"Do you wanna see?" Simon asked, standing up before waiting for an answer and bringing the photo over towards the kid. Stiles took the photo and saw a much younger Simon with his arms around a blonde woman, both of them smiling like a kid on Christmas. It was hard for Stiles to imagine Simon like that now.

"She's very pretty." Stiles said, and Simon grinned dreamily, before walking over to his chair and pulling it closer to Stiles.

"Yeah, she was. She wasn't just pretty, she was smart, kind, _very_ stubborn." Simon beamed sheepishly. "We met in college, but I knew, as soon as I met her, I knew she was the one."

Stiles knew what it meant that Simon kept talking about her in past tense. "What happened to her?" He asked curiously, and Simon's face darkened.

"How about I tell you from the beginning?"

_Woo, this chapter done! Warning the next, if not the next few are going to be establishing Simon's backstory. And on another note, I've decided to make this story a bit more complex. Mwa ha ha. On top of that, expect tragedy near the end. Only clue I'm giving._

_As always, please review. Please :) See you soon, and have fun!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Stiles knew what it meant that Simon kept talking about her in past tense. "What happened to her?" He asked curiously, and Simon's face darkened. _

_ "How about I tell you from the beginning?"_

It started when Simon was 20, when he was at college studying media. He had a paper due, and if he didn't get it in soon it was going to be late... again. Shivering, he turned up the collar of his coat against the wind and made his way to the college library. It was a fairly large building, which fortunately had all the textbooks that any student would need for any course, so not too much money had to be wasted at the college bookshops. Unfortunately, they were also in low supply.

It was approximately a 5 minute walk to library, and despite the cold weather Simon was relatively happy, humming a tune under his breath as he made his way up the cold stone steps of the library, before pushing the wooden door into the building. Inside it was kind of dark, the low dim lights raised high above the tall walls of musty bookshelves, but tables were set up wherever they'd fit, each with a fairly bright lamp that could be turned on for studying. Simon, having been at the college for a while, could now navigate his way through the maze of bookshelves with ease, and made his way past the shelves that studied classical literature towards the creative media section- and stopped. It was kind of cliché, _really_ cliché that the first time he saw her, the first time he saw Samantha, was when she was struggling on her tiptoes to get a book off a high shelf, the only part of her he could see was her blonde curls cascading down her back. He stood there for a split second, deliberating to get the nerves to approach before walking behind her quietly, reaching over her head for the book that her fingertips were barely brushing against and passed it down to her. His breath shook when she turned slowly to look at him, lips slightly parted, dazzling blue eyes open wide. _God, she's beautiful. _

He blushed a little but stood his ground. "Um, there you go." He said a bit hopelessly, before thinking out loud, "Oh, god. I hope that's the book you were actually reaching for. It would kind of humiliating if you were actually reaching for one higher up, or-" He faded out, the blush now fully formed on his cheeks.

She giggled, covering her smile with her hand, looking at the book he handed to her and then back up at him through her eyelashes. "You're babbling." She grinned, only making Simon blush more. "Thank you, stranger," She said, holding out her hand. "I'm Samantha." She introduced herself.

Simon took her hand tentatively and shook it. "Simon." he responded. "That's my name, in case you were wondering why I just randomly said 'Simon'. Although you probably guessed that, given the situation and all, and oh god I'm babbling again, aren't I? I'm never like this, I promise. It's just that I-"

"Sssshhhh," An voice hissed and Simon turned his head slightly to see a rather flustered librarian, stood by him menacingly, with his old withered finger placed on his thin lips.

Samantha giggled again. "Guess I'll see you around." She whispered, before planting a kiss on his cheek and walking away, leaving Simon stood there in a confused trance.

"See... you..." He murmured quietly in a voice only he and the unamused librarian could hear.

…...

Back at Beacon hills, things weren't as nearly as sound as people thought. Gerard was pacing, old hands fidgeting as he turned back to the small crowd of hunters gathered in the Argent's basement.

"I don't know about this." One of them said uncertainly. "Shouldn't we at least let Chris in a little?"

"No." Gerard spat, venom in his voice. "My son only knows how to stick to the code. He'd never agree to a plan like this. He'd never agree to this. We can't let him know, not until it's too late for any of us to back out." He rubbed his hand against forehead and frowned. "Now I know, I know that it wouldn't have to be this way. It _shouldn't _have to be this way, but that asshole Simon had to go get himself caught. And not only that, but he took the damn Stilinski kid with him. Sooner or later - and I'm betting on sooner – they're going to figure out what connection I have to Simon. I, _We, _ don't have time to stick to the first plan any more. We have to do this now. We are going to get rid of every darned werewolf in Beacon Hills, _then _we're going to get rid of every other damned werewolf, period."

One hunter near the back of the crowd looked up hesitantly. "Then, Gerard, I don't understand why we don't just kill them. That's the only part that doesn't make sense."

Gerard's head snapped back angrily. "Don't question me! Never you mind why I want them alive. They have something I want. They have something I need. Now, you listen to me," He looked to the rest of the small crowd, a terrifying smile on his face. "When this goes down, you will bring Derek Hale and Scott McCall to me. Kill the others."

…...

"_See... you..." He murmured quietly in a voice only he and the unamused librarian could hear._

And he certainly did, two years later he and Samantha were married- turning 'Samantha Emmy Keyes' to 'Samantha Emmy Colt'. It was picturesque, a fairytale life, Simon working as a clerk at a media company, whilst Sammy stayed at home, and wrote her parts from there. And it worked, beautifully. Not to say they didn't have their arguments, but they were mostly happy.

They had an argument that day. It was something silly, very silly. Simon had woken up a bit too late that morning, and began his day by rushing around the house, trying to find his documents, his shirt, his tie, his socks(in the end he wore yesterday's pair) and various other things that were not in the right place. "Honey, have you seen my briefcase?" He asked as he ran into the kitchen, determined to at least get something nutritious down his throat before he left for work.

"It's by the front door." Samantha said absent mindedly, buttering a piece of toast. Simon looked up.

"What's wrong?" He asked, but she only shook her head. "Sammy..." He said, taking a step towards her, before pulling her towards him by her shoulders gently. "Come on."

She looked up to him through trembling eyelashes. "I don't know Simon. It's just this house, it doesn't feel _safe_." She glanced down at the floor, biting her lip.

Simon raised his eyebrows in confusion. "What do you mean? This is our dream house, Sammy. We've been here for almost 2 years. What bought this on?"

Samantha stepped back. "I don't know. It's just recently I've been feeling really uneasy. Like someone is watching me."

Simon shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous. You're fine, I'm here."

"You think I'm being ridiculous!?" Samantha asked sternly and Simon inwardly cringed. _Whoops. _

"No, no." He tried to reassure her. "Of course not. It's just.. listen..." He put his hands back on your shoulders. "You're fine, and I'm late." He said looking at his wrist before leaning down to kiss her forehead.

"You're just going to leave?" Samantha pulled back from her husbands arms. "After what I just told you?"

Simon sighed. "What do you expect me to do, Samantha? I have work, if I'm any later I might as well just take the day off..." He trailed off when he realised the look on Sammy's face looked like she wanted him to do just that. "Look, I'll be back by 6 at least, we can talk then, alright? You can tell me everything." Samantha just looked away, and Simon sighed again, before picking up his toast and briefcase, before walking out the door, pausing only to cast a worried look in her direction before the door shut behind him.

That was the last time he'd ever see her alive.

For that night he got back late. It was almost 7:30; his boss wanted to get him interested in this new project, promotion hinting at the edge of his words, so Simon spent the spare time running around in order to gather up the necessary plans and outlines for the idea.

_Shit, Samantha's going to kill me. Especially after how freaked she was this morning. _Simon thought as he pulled into the cul-de-sac. And that's when he saw the police tape. Around his house. _His _house.

"Oh god, no." Simon murmured out loud, thinking back to the morning. _"Like someone is watching me"..._ "Oh no. No. No," Simon stopped is car in the middle of the road, and jumped out of the car, running towards his house. "Samantha? Samantha!" He shouted, running towards the police tape, only to get stopped by a big man in an Officers uniform.

"Sir, you can't come in here." The policeman said, blocking Simon's path with his arm.

"Where is Samantha? Is she okay?" Simon asked the man, but the policeman shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but we can't disclose any information right now."

"Please, you have to. She's my wife!" Simon's voice came out higher than normal, and he could feel the prickle of tears at his eyes. The policeman opened his eyes in surprise, and Simon took the opportunity to push past the man, heading straight to his front door.

"Hey! No! You can't go in there. Hey!" The policeman shouted, bundling after him, but Simon kept running, pushing his way through the mass of officials in the doorway, following the trail of forensics to the kitchen.

_Oh god, no. Oh god. Oh, god. Oh, god._

Simon was now a mess, his thoughts and emotions welling up inside him as he looked at the sight in front of him. "Sammy... Sammy, no.." He wailed out, almost as he himself had been injured. "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy, come on Sammy, wake up. Wake up, Sammy, come on."

She didn't move, and Simon, unable to bear the sight any longer, collapsed onto the floor, shutting his eyes tight, trying to block what he'd just seen.

_It's just this house, it doesn't feel safe. _Blood, blood was everywhere. _What do you mean? This is our dream house, Sammy. _Across the walls, the ceiling, and **her**. _I've been feeling really uneasy. Like someone is watching me. _She was lashed what looked like a thousand times, her skin and clothes torn with deep even cuts. And her face, Samantha's beautiful face... _Don't be ridiculous. _Her face wasn't even there. Whatever, whoever, had done this to her had torn it so much it was no longer recognisable. _Don't be ridiculous..._

"Sammy..." He warbled, sliding across the stained kitchen floor, trying to reach her hand. "Samantha, I am so sorry," He reached towards her once smooth skin.

"What is he doing here?! Get him out!" A voice at the back of his mind shouted, but Simon didn't register it, as his fingers touched her cold, wet skin, before he was roughly pulled away only a second later. "Sammy, I'm so sorry..." He continued to cry, shutting his eyes to see her face. "I should of listened to you honey, I'm so sorry..." He didn't even notice that he was no longer in the house, and was being pulled next to an ambulance. In his mind he was still next to her. Next to his Samantha.

_I'm so sorry..._

_**Right, this chapter done(I nearly cried writing that). Some more of Simon's back story is still needed but other than that we're on the way. Hope fully the next chapter is going on soon. Please review... Please, and until next time have fun!**_


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